


These wild oceans shake what's left of me loose, just to hear me cry mercy

by memoryhole (orphan_account)



Category: South Park
Genre: Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Don't Read This, Gen, Heavy Angst, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Kyle is actually Snowfur holy shit, Levi is gonna hate me, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Vomiting, hit-and-run, this is dark, what do you mean there isn't a speedbump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 07:04:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14051577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/memoryhole
Summary: Stan nervously opened one eye, half expecting Kyle to be standing infront of him, awestruck but unharmed. He desperately wished for that, but a niggling feeling in his heart told him it wasn't true, like a maggot in an apple core.That feeling was correct.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> guys huge trigger warning for vomit, blood, gore, and body horror. You have been warned, please don't yell at me

Stan Marsh exited a run down, possibly wolf rat infested convenience store, unnaturally orange peach slushie and almond joy in hand; soon followed by Kyle Broflovski, clutching a box containing a simple quarter of pizza.

This had become an after school routine for the two, making a mad dash through marshy bogs and old yard sales to get to the place, Stan yelling at Kyle the whole time they crossed obviously empty roads, repeating the phrase "You're stupid!" Until the hot asphalt turned to equally warm and cracked concrete.

Stan usually followed Kyle to his house to make sure the ginger made it across safely, but this afternoon the noirette's mother wanted him home early.

Stan decided, however, surely she wouldn't be _too_ mad if he was a little late.

Grabbing Kyle's arm and dragging him to a bench, he ignored the smaller boy's surprised squeak of protest as he pulled him into a sitting position next to him on the hard stone. Getting over it, Kyle shrugged and began snacking on the large slice of pizza, ungracefully smearing grease and pizza sauce on his normally immaculately clean face and hands.

Stan and Kyle sat in comfortable silence, arms linked as they practically inhaled whatever overpriced snacks the two bought, only interrupted by the occasional friendly insult and laugh.

Stan never wanted to leave that moment.

The glow of content quickly fainted as Stan's phone buzzed with a text from Sharon, telling him to get his ass home at once. Huffing, he craned his neck to look at Kyle, who was currently curiously peering over the raven's shoulder to oggle at the furious text. Stan mimicked Sharon's voice in a whiny way, earning a delirious giggle from Kyle.

The two hopped off the bench, half eaten snacks in hand, and set off toward the road both boy's houses were currently across, smiling jubilantly.

"Dude, don't get hit by a car." Stan quipped, grinning at the orange clad boy.

"Okay! I will." Kyle cracked back, beginning to half run, half speedwalk across the road.

Stan paused, distracted by the lump of a possible pebble in his shoe. "Uh, go without me. Ill trail after in a moment."

A chirped "Okay!" was quickly swallowed by a sudden roar. Stan frowned, looking up with a nervous laugh. "Dude, what-?"

The Noirette was met with the terrifying sight of Kyle, frozen to the road as a formidable truck bore down on him.

Shutting his eyes, Stan desperately wanted to throw himself at Kyle, to bowl him out of the way, but he couldn't move.

A warm splatter of liquid traced an uneven, red line across the male's face, the sheer metalic scent of it causing him to gag. Stan nervously opened one eye, half expecting Kyle to be standing infront of him, awestruck but unharmed. He desperately wished for that, but a niggling feeling in his heart told him it wasn't true, like a maggot in an apple core.

That feeling was correct.

Kyle lay in an awkward, broken position, legs bent at an awkward angle and arms splayed to the side, eyes glazed and staring at the sky, forever unseeing. His mouth was slightly slack, a thin line of blood dribbling from it, meeting two other trickles emerging from his nose, pooling at his cheek and chin, before finally creeping across the asphalt in a wide, ever growing puddle.

Tire tracks were comically positioned on his throat, shoulders, and torso, ocassionally opening into oozing splits. 

Stan retched for a moment, before finally vomiting into a withered patch of grass. He turned, creeping anxiously up to Kyle's side, hesitating before gathering his head into a gentle hug, ignoring the gut-wrenching feeling of blood soaking into his jacket, coating his hands and one of his flushed, tear track stained cheeks. 

He buried his face into Kyle's hair, the growing scent of death swamped by _him_. Stan choked on the familiarity of the scent, pulling back and watching helplessly as Kyle's head lolled back into Stan's palms.

The raven twisted his head to look at a bush of roses positioned on the side of the road. Kyle always loved roses. 

Sniffling, Stan gently picked up his friend's cold body in his arms, bridal style. Dragging himself over to the bushes, he gently pushed the corpse under the overhang of shade, solemnly watching as disturbed petals slowly fluttered onto Kyle's freckled, sheet-white skin.

Shouldering off his jacked, he wrapped it around the ginger, grabbing for the iconic, currently tattered green hat of Kyle's. He took off his beanie as well, placing both headwear side by side on the bloodstained jacket.

Sighing in defeat, he collapsed in sheer grief next to Kyle.


	2. When I'm lonely, I'm gonna be the man who's lonely without you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He isn't asleep," Stan whispered desperately.
> 
> "No, he's not."
> 
> Stan dropped to his knees soundlessly, catching a glimpse of fresh blood and body matter. Choking, he swallowed some bile rising in his throat. It didn't sting as much as reality of the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i wrote this chapter once and procrastinated halfway through by looking at burger king foot lettuce memes and ao3 deleted it
> 
> god is punishing me

Stan woke with a start to gruff hands wrapping him in a blanket.

Blinking ferociously against the sound of sirens and the blare of flashing lights, the noirette sunk into the man's grasp with a moan, coming to terms with the heavy feeling of some sort of dried substance on his face. The mysterious man half carried, half pulled Stan into a secluded spot, although he was still in sight of the ensuing chaos.

A small cot rolled shakily by, only grabbing Stan's attention with bright red curls.

Stan gasped, pulling himself shakily to his feet and ignoring a yelp of confused protests from the man and the carriers of the cot.

Peering at Kyle's blurry face, Stan grinned playfully. "Dude, did we fall asleep yesterday? I bet my mom was so pissed she called the cops." Expecting a reply of laughter and a lighthearted "You're stupid," Stan stood awkwardly for a moment.

"Dude, you still asleep? Wake up, sleepyhead." Kyle was typically a light sleeper, so this deep of a sleep struck him as odd.

Stan met one of the men carrying the cot's eyes, a nervous smile on his face. "You guys drug him or something?" He mumbled, shooting another glance at Kyle.

Stan stood on the very tip of his toes, gently swiping a stray curl off of Kyle's unnaturally cold face, frowning hesitantly. Normally, the lightest touch would wake Kyle immediately, and leave Stan with a well deserved bloody nose, but Kyle didn't say anything, didn't even move.

Stan's face flushed with growing tears, staring wildly at the men. "What's wrong with him? Did you guys hurt him? Why isn't he waking up?" Stan was crying by now, desperate tears rolling down his red face.

The men said something, but Stan wasn't listening, he was just staring at Kyle.

"This isn't funny anymore. If you don't wake up, I'll-" Stan trailed off, taking in his best friend's features.

"He isn't asleep," Stan whispered desperately.

"No, he's not."

Stan dropped to his knees soundlessly, catching a glimpse of fresh blood and body matter. Choking, he swallowed some bile rising in his throat. It didn't sting as much as reality of the moment. Memories of Kyle, looking like the most terrified deer-in-headlights he had ever seen, Kyle, broken on the road, Kyle, laying so peacefully under a bushel of roses he could almost appear asleep.

Stan had never felt any more broken than at that moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im tempted to turn this into a guardian angel fic but i don't think i will

**Author's Note:**

> sorry
> 
> also my search history is now suspiciously full of car related injuries/deaths 
> 
> im traumatized
> 
> i mean no disrespect for victims or relatives of victims of car crashes/accidents !!!


End file.
